Department of Magical Creatures Case #625369
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Chapter 13
After further discussion with Jordan, as well as Smith’s father, his decision was made. He would go to London and work for a year to see how it went, and if he enjoyed it, then Jordan would find a job and move there with him. Smith had been surprised at Jordan’s acceptance of the decision, but Jordan had only told him to look at the distance as a test on their relationship. If they could survive a year apart, then they were meant to be together, and if they couldn’t, it was better to know before too much was invested in the relationship. Smith was hesitant, having had a picture in his head of Draco naked and prone beneath him, begging for a fuck, but agreed with the assessment anyway. He supposed that Jordan was right; if he was meant to be with Jordan, then whatever temptation Draco might bring could and would be overcome.
Monday morning found him at the main post office off of Jackson Boulevard, waiting in a line four people thick to get a passport application. The room was massive and the click of heels across the tiled floor echoed against the high ceiling. The man at the front of the line was arguing with the teller, something about the fee being ridiculously high. Smith wasn’t really listening; instead, he was going through what he needed to do to get to the UK. After his passport, he would have to apply for a work visa, get the paperwork for his wizarding passport and send in the application Cordelia Graves had sent him. Sometimes he wished he didn’t have to go through two different and entirely unconnected bureaucracies just to get through everyday life. He would have skipped the muggle government, but he didn’t want to get stuck somewhere in muggle London without any proof that he had entered and was working in the country legally.
He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice when the line moved up finally. The argumentative man was standing to the side, tapping his foot. As Smith stepped forward, a woman in the blue uniform of a postal worker came up to him and began speaking calmly. She was obviously a supervisor and her presence seemed to relax his anger, if only a little. Smith absently watched the exchange as he waited for the line to move, which it quickly did, and soon he was out of the massive black cube of a building with a yellow passport application in his hand. He paused at the entrance to the Jackson Blueline, debating whether or not he should go straight home or take the application over to his parents’ place. His mother was always much more patient with filling out forms than he was, but if he went over there he would probably have to abandon Jordan to dinner alone.
After standing in front of the turn-style long enough to annoy half a dozen people, he finally decided that he should go home and made his way down to the platform. It was probably best if he spent as much time as possible with Jordan before he left. Half an hour later, he was through the door and pleasantly surprised to find Jordan already home. “You’re early. Not enough to keep you busy today?” he asked as he walked up and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend.
Jordan gave him a wide smile and kissed his lips. “I got everything done early so I could come home and be with you.”
Smith grinned back and smoothed his hand down Jordan’s khakis to mould them over his ass. “To be with me, hmm? You’re a little over-dressed then, I think.”
Jordan’s response was a kiss and a not-so-subtle attempt at pulling Smith’s long-sleeved t-shirt off. Smith helped him and soon they were travelling towards the bedroom, pulling clothing off as they went. “How was work? Was it a half-day or something?”
“No work. I went to the post office to get my passport application and got the photos taken for it. Cordelia sent the paperwork for the Visas I need, so I thought I should get everything started.” There was a pause in Jordan’s touching, barely noticeable, but Smith could feel his hesitation and knew that his lover had more of a problem with him leaving than he was letting on.
-----
Justin was putting together... something in the living room and Draco was hesitant to ask what exactly the large black box was. He leant against the doorframe, watching as Justin moved around and around the box, twisting and moving bits of it, and occasionally cursing it. Ten minutes into the activity, Draco finally decided to ask what he was doing, despite knowing that it was muggle and he probably wouldn’t like it. “What precisely is that thing you’re fiddling with and why do you keep cursing at it? Is that the only way it will work?”
Justin was so startled from hearing Draco’s voice that he toppled over from his crouch and landed flat on his arse. “Jesus, Draco, you scared me half to death.”
“Well, that’s only because you’re so intent on this... thing. Now are you going to tell me what it is and why it is in my living room or not?” he responded as he went over to give Justin a hand up, not quite being able to resist a grope as he did so.
Justin gave him a rueful grin and smacked his wandering hand away. “It’s a telly, for watching programs and films and football. I’ve told you about them several times, but you never listened. I think you’ll like it once I get it going, though. I’m just having a bit of trouble getting the magic to override the electrical system so that it can take over the power source. Your flat has a larger concentration of magic than mine did.”
“It’s muggle, isn’t it? I thought you said you’d tell me before putting anything muggle in the house after you put in that dreadful shrieking mini-box in the kitchen.”
Justin gave a long-suffering sigh and shook his head. “That’s the telephone, silly. It doesn’t shriek; it rings. And I told you that was for work and so you can call me when I’m at work. It’s quicker than owling and much neater than the floo.”
Draco ignored him and turned his eyes to the box. “It’s a black box. I don’t see the point.”
Justin shook his head and crouched back down to continue fiddling with it. “I told you, I can’t get the magic to work quite right.”
“Maybe that’s the magic telling you it doesn’t want a muggle box thing in the flat.”
“I don’t think so. I just need to mess with it a bit more and it’ll work. I know it will.” Draco declined to comment further and went into the kitchen to make himself some tea.
Three days later, Draco was sitting on the couch, taking advantage of Justin being at work to read one of his mother’s smutty veela romance novels when all of the sudden the big black box came to life and started yelling at him about something called “Tesco”. He squealed (it was a dignified squeal) and scurried behind the couch in fright. The box stopped yelling and was replaced by several voices talking in conversation, with some awful instrumental music playing behind them. Draco cautiously peered over the top of the couch and saw that there were tiny people in the box, all looking very dramatic about something. Perhaps the fact that they were shrunk and stuck in the black, muggle box. Draco would certainly be distraught about something like that.
Not knowing what else to do, he got up and went to the small, white box attached to one of the kitchen cabinets. Justin had left instructions on how to use it to ‘ring him’, whatever that meant. Draco thought of the little people trapped in the box and decided to try it. After three tries, including two that involved foreign voices telling him he had pushed the wrong buttons, he finally heard Justin’s voice.
“You have to come home right away. That box you put in the living room, it’s moving and there are shrunken people inside and you said it was for entertainment, but I don’t think it’s particularly amusing to shrink people and trap them in a confining space. It doesn’t look like they’ll have enough air, and I don’t want them to die because if they die, then the Ministry will blame it on me and I know they’re just looking for a reason to send me to Azkaban even though it would be your fault! I can’t believe you would do this to me! How could muggles think this sort of thing is amusing; it’s terr-“
“Draco? Relax, love, calm down. Who’s going to die?”
“The little people in the box!”
“What little people in what box? I don’t know what you’re talking about, pet. You’ll have to slow down and explain it to me again.”
Draco sighed and darted a glance into the living room to see that the little people had gone and now there was just a little dog. “They shrink dogs, too?! How horrible! Justin, you have to come home. This is cruelty and it isn’t funny!”
“I understand that pet, but you have to tell me what’s wrong. Who are these little people? Where are they?”
“In that big, black box you brought home the other day. I was reading on the couch when all of the sudden it came to life and it was yelling at me, but then it stopped yelling and these little people showed up and they all look very distressed to have been shrunk and trapped in the box. And now there’s a dog that doesn’t appear to realize he’s been shrunken or imprisoned with very little air. You have to come home and fix this. Your magic obviously went wrong.”
There was a pause, long enough for Draco to become rather impatient, and then, “Draco, are you talking about the telly?”
“I... Yes, I think that’s what you called the demon box you brought into my home.” Suddenly, there was a loud sound of laughter, Justin’s laughter, and that only served to make Draco angrier. “This is serious! You’ve shrunk people and imprisoned them in a window box!”
There was more laughter, and then wheezing sounds as though Justin were trying to get back his breath. Finally, “Draco, there’s nothing wrong with the telly. The people in it aren’t really that small; it’s like a two-dimensional pensive memory, remember? Those people were filmed beforehand and they’re all perfectly normal, average-sized people. And none of them are trapped in our telly, I promise.”
“I think you should come home anyway, just in case. What if you’re wrong and you really accidently shrunk them? I don’t want to go to Azkaban.”
A sound of defeat could be heard in the round end with the one hole and then mumbled voices, one of which was Justin telling his co-workers about a ‘minor incident with his muggle-ignorant pureblood boyfriend’ and how he had to floo home to fix it before the boyfriend ‘had a major meltdown’. Draco would have been highly insulted at the implications that he was so emotionally unstable, but at that moment the box began shouting again.
“Hurry!”
“I’ll be there in a minute, love. Just relax, there’s nothing to worry about.” There was a click sound and then a loud buzzing that Draco did not like and so he dropped the feletoner and went to make himself tea, all the while eyeing the shouting box through the doorway to the kitchen. Justin popped in just as the kettle was whistling and went straight to the box and pushed at it once. The shrunken people and the shouting immediately stopped. Draco peeked in curiously, still a bit disconcerted by the whole thing, and was surprised to see that the box was once again completely black. “See, no harm done. There aren’t tiny people in here, love, just moving, talking pictures. Remember the cinema I took you to last month? It’s like that only the picture is smaller. Nothing to worry about. Don’t touch it and it won’t bother you, I promise.” He gave Draco a reassuring smile, but Draco was not reassured and made it known by sidling up to his mate and insinuating himself in his arms.
“Why does it shout? It frightened me nearly to death with its shouting.”
Justin tightened his arms around the blond and pulled him close, enjoying the nuzzling Draco was doing to his neck. “The volume was set a bit too high, that’s all. It normally doesn’t shout, I promise. Maybe tonight after we eat we can sit down and watch some. I’ll introduce you to East Enders; I think you’ll like it.”
“Can we not and have sex instead? I think I’ve had rather enough of that box for one day. I’d much rather introduce myself to your cock.” He gave a little wiggle for emphasis and Justin had to chuckle.
“I think you’ve already become well acquainted with all my anatomy, pet. But there’s nothing to say we can’t have sex while we watch East Enders.”
Draco’s mouth turned up in a wicked grin and he tugged Justin’s face closer. “I think we’ve got a deal,” he growled and took Justin’s mouth to seal it.
-----
Four men were settled at a back table of a small restaurant just off Al-fayasuf, the main Wizarding Street in Cairo, eating koshary out of large steel bowls while exchanging anecdotes about their families. There was a Quidditch match playing on the wireless and their conversation paused every so often to listen when the commentary became particularly heated. They were waiting until the announcement of the final score before beginning their real conversation, the exchange of information. Ron sucked a fried onion off his spoon and tried to pretend he wasn’t listening as Bill told Seth the story of how Ron had become afraid of spiders. He hated that story; it always made him blush, but what could he do? Bill was his brother, his eldest brother, and Seth was laughing heartily at the image of a tiny Ron, just barely out of his toddler years, screaming for Mummy while his beloved teddy bear morphed into a giant spider.
Seth slammed a hand on the table as he laughed, rattling all their bowls and shaking the rickety table a bit, and Ron couldn’t help but smile, too. He liked Seth, he knew already. He reminded Ron of Hagrid in some ways, loud and happy and bigger than life, though thankfully he seemed quite a bit smarter and less-inclined towards dangerous animals. It reminded him of home, made him a little homesick, and he was glad that Harry was staying the week. He was less lonely when Harry came to stay, even if Harry was wallowing in his own heartache at the moment.
"Shall I start?" Seth asked, once the game had finished and they were settled with a fresh round of food and drinks. The other three nodded affirmations and Seth smiled widely. "The first discovery we made was a funeral pot in Akheneton’s tomb. One of our junior archeologists found a sealed pot smeared with a thick blue material that he assumed was paint. It appeared to have been dripped down the side of the pot before it was sealed. Had the material not covered the hieroglyphs depicting the pot’s contents, which were strange to themselves, we would not have looked at it twice. As it was, the visible hieroglyphs indicated that the pot contained a ceremonial knife, a powerful one. We had the paint tested and found that is was not paint, but biological material. More tests showed a form of magical creature blood, but not one that we could identify or had ever seen before. We decided to open the pot, hoping to find more clues as to where the blood came from.
"It took three of our best curse breakers three weeks the break the seal, and what we found was indeed a knife. It contained more magical power than I ever have felt in an object. It... how do you say...? It was like the blood moving in your body. Do you know what I am trying to say?" He looked frustrated for the first time with the language barrier.
"Was it pulsing?" Bill prompted, voice strained in excited tension.
Seth grinned and nodded quickly. "Yes, pulsing is the word, thank you." He took a drink of water and continued. "The handle was made of animal bone, later testing showed a combination of sphynx and falcon. The blade was made of adamantine-coated diamond. It was--is--truly the most remarkable thing of crafting and magical manipulation I have ever seen."
"Where is it? How did you discover what it was used for?" prompted Raleigh. He looked as unable to contain his excitement as Bill did.
"It is currently under security in a vault under the museum. I may have able to get you permission to see it, but not today. Once we found the knife, we examined the burial chamber very thorough, and yet it took us seven weeks to find the message. It was hidden in plain sight, but it only appeared when one of our elves touched it."
Bill and Raleigh shared a look. "A house elf? Why a house elf?"
"I am not for sure, but we think there is a thing in the paint that only responds to those with some sort of magical creature connection, either those with the blood or their mates."
"But..." Bill paused, wide-eyed. "They've never shown up for me, at least not before someone else showed them to me. My wife is part veela and I... I was bitten by an unchanged werewolf. That's where my... scars came from." He indicated the hard, jagged lines that crossed and distorted his features. Ron turned his eyes away, stomach dropping out. Most of the time he forgot about the scars, accepting that they were a part of Bill now, but the thought of that night and of Greyback made him nauseous.
It appeared to have stopped Seth in his tracks as well, because he made several attempts at speech before finally saying, "Perhaps it is the werewolf blocking you out. We have noticed that only light creatures have had the ability to find the hieroglyphs."
Ron furrowed his brows, suddenly remembering something.
"Hang on, I found the sign with Khaemwaset's name on it; I don't have any creature connections. Our family has never had any creature blood and I'm not mated to anyone."
Seth turned to him with a small smile and eyes twinkling the like of Dumbledore.
"You do not know that. Your mate has not found you yet, perhaps. The magic is strong and very old. It can sense more than you know."
Ron didn't say anything. There was nothing he could say. If he was somehow mated to someone, he hadn't met that someone yet, so he wouldn't worry about it. Seth flashed him one more smile before returning to business.
"As I was saying before, it took seven weeks and a house elf, but we found the hieroglyph, the one I have shown Ronald here." He took a galleon-sized file folder out of his breast pocket, enlarged it, and pulled out two glossy photographs. It was familiar, though Ron had not had time to examine it before and find the differences. Now they stood out like flashing lights; all those in line for worship were no longer calmly standing by as their god was murdered. Their faces were all contorted in horror, gifts dropping to the ground, some shattered. Ramses II, Nefertari, and their son stood in front, looking ready to attack.
It was several minutes before anyone spoke. The pictures had been passed from person to person, stared at in astonishment, and then stared at some more. "They..." Bill started, but had to look at them again before he could finish the sentence.
"I've never seen anything like this. Have they ever moved to attack him?"
"Not that we have seen. Do your findings not look like this?"
"No, they don't show any emotion on ours. And the pharoah who owns the tomb is always in front of the line." Bill pulled his own file out and showed Seth their photos Raleigh had taken. Seth examined them slowly, nodding occasionally as though they were confirming something for him
"I am seeing a reason, possibly. Khaemwaset and Nefertari put up the engravings to show us the way."
"The way to what?" Raleigh asked, clearly confused, eyes still focused on the photographs.
"The way to the tomb of Re."
"You think there really was a tomb, then, and a body?" Bill asked, leaning closer over the table in enthusiasm.
"All our research has indicated that Nefertari had an elaborate tomb built as his final resting place. We also believe that the blood we found on the sacrificial knife is that of Re. It would explain why we have not been able to identify the source as of yet."
"But if it's Re's blood, wouldn't it be wizarding?" Ron asked, finally feeling like he was catching up on the conversation.
"That would mean that he was human, and we do not believe that he, or any of the other gods, was."
"What do you think they were, then?"
"Extremely powerful magical creatures."
Another hush fell over the table. They had never thought that the gods could be a separate species. With the assumption that all the pharaohs were lower gods themselves such an important part of Egyptian lore, they had always thought the gods were magically powerful wizards. It made sense, though, that they would be a different species. The pharaohs were probably part-magical creature, like Hagrid or Flitwick. Or Malfoy, if Harry was to be believed. Malfoy. Ron wondered what sort of trouble he was getting into. He knew that Harry was having lunch with the prat the next day. Maybe he would go, just to see what the twat looked like now that he was in full veela mode.
His thoughts meandered down that line of thinking for so long that by the time he was returned to the present, the others were deeply ensconced in a debate about the relative merits of their separate theories. The new thread of the conversation went so far over Ron's head that he could only sit back, drink his tea, and try to understand as much of what they were saying as he could. By the time it began to grow dark, all he knew for sure was that they were looking for the tomb of an unknown new magical species and he had been officially hired as Seth's assistant.
-----
Potter,
I would like to take you to lunch and discuss a matter of grave importance. What is the earliest date you might be able to meet with me?
Draco Malfoy
-----
The note from Draco had surprised Harry, but it didn’t stop him from coming to lunch. He couldn’t fathom what Draco could possibly want to ask him that would be important enough to warrant lunch. Though Harry was beginning to rather like Draco, unannounced snogging assaults aside, he was under the impression that Draco did not feel the same. Still, it was a free lunch and something to take his mind off his misery. He just hoped Draco didn’t bring up Regina.
He entered the small bistro Draco had directed him to, bypassing the host with a nod and walking directly to the blond’s table. His white-blond hair was like a beacon in the dim, darkly furnished restaurant. Draco beamed up at him and Harry was instantly suspicious. “Harry, good to see you. How have you been?”
“I’ve been better, but I’m all right, you? I can see this isn’t just a social visit.”
Draco gave him a coy smile and handed him a menu. “What makes you say that?”
“You’re never this happy to see me. In fact, I’m fairly certain that you barely tolerate my presence most of the time.”
Draco’s face fell, but only a little. “All right, Potter, you’ve caught me. I do indeed have a favor to ask. However, I would prefer to ply you with food before I ask, so why don’t we order?”
Harry acquiesced, going over all the possible requests Draco could make of him, from taking care of an Apparition ticket to assassinating the new Minister. Nothing stood out as a real possibility. They ordered and sat in silence until Harry’s pint came. Draco watched avidly as he took several pulls from it. He apparently had been serious about waiting and it had Harry’s curiosity peeked.
“Before I ask you what I’ve brought you to lunch to ask, you should know that this request comes from my mother. I support her decision and understand why she asks this of you, but I did not put the thought in her head, so please don’t be angry that I’ve asked.”
“What could your mother possibly want that she couldn’t have asked me for herself in an owl?” Harry’s curiosity grew by leaps and bounds.
Draco took a deep breath and an even deeper drink of his wine before speaking. “Mother would like to know if it would be possible, with certain restrictions, for Severus’s sentence to be commuted to house arrest, to be served at Malfoy Manor under our supervision.” Harry opened his mouth to immediately reject the idea, but one look from Draco had his jaw snapping shut again. “Let me finish, please. She understands that this would be quite a concession on the part of the Ministry, to permit a convicted murderer's release to the home of a late Death Eater, but she has conditions that she thinks might persuade you. He would not be allowed access to his wand until after his release. He would be under twenty-four-hour surveillance by either one of us or one of our house elves. And as penance for his crimes, he would be required to brew potions for St. Mungo’s, Hogwarts, and the Ministry. We have the facilities for him to do this and are willing to provide some of the ingredients as a donation.” Harry was unable to respond, struck dumb by the suggestion.
Draco took the opportunity to further highlight the benefits of the idea. “It really makes quite a bit of sense if you think about it. Severus is just wasting away up there with those Dementors. It’s only a matter of time before he goes as mad as all the rest of them and do we really want to throw away such a brilliant mind? We both know that he’s the best Potions Master this side of the Channel. This way, he would be able to help our community and still finish out his sentence.”
“Why would you want to do this?” he asked finally, staring at Draco as though he were an unknown entity. He certainly had not been expecting what had come out of the blond’s mouth.
"He saved my life, both of our lives, on dozens of occasions. We care deeply for him. And..." There he hesitated and Harry was about to object again, sensing that Draco was keeping pertinent information from him, when the waitress arrived with their meals. They spent a quiet few minutes tucking in before either was ready to speak again, and it was Draco who finally continued the conversation, speaking up before Harry could voice his objection. "You have seen the state that my mother is in. She is dwindling away to nothing without her mate. Until now, I have been able to distract her from her despair at the loss of my father, but I have found my own mate now. As much as I would like to spend all my time with her and keep her occupied indefinitely, my life centers around him. I cannot be the center of her world in the way she needs to someone to be. If she were to have a project of her own to watch over, someone she cares deeply for and who depends on her, she might be able to get better. It is proven that widowed veela who are the primary caregiver to children or invalids are able to keep their depressions at bay. I want this for my mother very much."
Harry blanched. He had seen the pallor and gauntness of Narcissa when he accompanied her visit to Snape's cell, but he had not realized that the situation was as dire as Draco was saying that it was. He wanted to help Narcissa. Something inside him seemed to resonate with her, though he couldn't put a finger on exactly what. And he hated the thought of someone wasting away into death when there was something he could do about it. Still, the thought of Snape essentially a free man, when he had killed Dumbledore in cold blood the way he had, made Harry feel sick. "I don't know if I would feel comfortable letting him out of Azkaban. I'm sorry, I really want to help your mother, I do, but I just don't think I would sleep well knowing that he could be incapacitating your mother and going free at any moment."
All the hope and pleasure melted from Draco's expression. There was a split moment where Harry wanted to do anything to take back what he said, just so that it would make Draco smile again, but then he was able to shake off the veelan influence and come back to his senses. "I'm sorry, Draco. I would be more than happy to visit your mother myself, if it would help her. I enjoyed speaking to her when I escorted her to see Snape at the prison."
Draco nodded despondently and took a large swig of his wine. "It might help. I was really hoping to convince you about Severus, though. Are you certain that you could not allow it? We would have house elves on guard twenty-four hours a day and we could erect wards around him so that he could not harm those around him."
"No, I just can't. Again, I'm really sorry. I trust you and your mother to be able to watch him, but I don't trust him. And I... I don't think house arrest would be a punishment for him, especially if it is at your beautiful home. He killed his own mentor in cold blood. He deserves to be exactly where he is."
"He was ordered to kill..."
"I don't want to talk about it." Harry gave him an immovable look. Draco appeared to ignore it, but Harry changed the subject before he could continue his protests. "Who is your mate? You never said."
A glow crept over Draco's expression and he immediately went into a long, colorful explanation of Justin Finch-Fletchly and how they had come together. The subject change had clearly been well-chosen, as Draco spent the rest of the meal talking about Justin. Draco left on relatively amiable terms (or as amiable as was possible for them given their history). Harry took a few more moments to finish his drink and to think once Draco had gone. The discussion had taken more from him than he had expected and he needed a moment to settle his thoughts. It was in that moment that Ron arrived, looking around in search of someone. “Where’s the ferret?” he asked, taking Draco’s seat and downing the last dregs of his wine. Harry stared at him, momentarily confused as to why he was there. “He left already. What are you doing here? Don’t you have work?” “Nah, don’t start until Monday. Thought I’d drop in and see what Malfoy looks like now that he’s all veela-like. He’s left already? Bugger.”
“Why would you care what Draco looks like now? He’s still Draco, veela or not. You weren’t thinking of chatting him up, were you? Because he told me he’s in a relationship with Justin Finch-Fletchly.” Ron wrinkled his nose as if Harry had just offered him vomit-flavored ice cream. “God no, just thought I’d see what he was like now. Never mind, though, if he’s gone. Fancy a drink?” A drink sounded like a brilliant idea, and soon they were downing pints of Butterbeer and the discussion was off on other topics.
-----
Smith was nervous and, oddly, feeling slightly hung-over despite having rejected offers of alcohol during the flight. Granted the turbulence at around hour three had nearly driven him to drink, but he had managed to abstain so as not to look like a drunken fool when first meeting his new employer. Now, walking towards baggage claim to meet Cordelia, he was starting to think a drink or three might not have mattered. He was exhausted, grungy, a little grumpy, and terribly frustrated with the British muggle customs officer who had been rather rude and unfriendly.
All that went away though when he spotted a familiar blond head amongst the crowd. Draco had not told him that he was planning on accompanying the Graveses to pick him up at the airport, and yet there he was, talking to Cordelia, he assumed. The woman had short maroon hair and looked very much the wife of a rock star. The girls were not so recognizable, but they stood out in their own way; they were both stunningly beautiful. Their hair was a matching blue-black that he had never seen before and their eyes were a striking pale blue that they shared with their mother.
Taking a deep breath, he started towards them and was met by a beaming, heart-stopping smile from Draco, as well as three pleasant smiles from the ladies.
“Smith, you have no idea how happy I am to see you! How are you, love? Come, meet Cordelia and her two stunning daughters.” Draco rushed up to meet him in a hug before ushering him over to the Graves women. “Cordelia, ladies, this is my good friend Smith Michael. Smith, meet Cordelia, Beatrice, and Raya Graves.” Smith shook hands, though little Raya was momentarily shy and tried to hide behind her mother.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I’m excited to hear you two play.” He grinned at the two little girls who both blushed.
Draco chuckled at his side. “I forgot to tell you he’s a charmer, Cordelia. Your lovely daughters may end up with inflated egos, not that they won’t be deserved. Shall we go and find your bags? I wanted to bring an elf to assist us, but Justin assured me that that would not be allowed.”
Smith resisted rolling his eyes. “I’m sure we can manage. I only have the two and they came with permanent feather-light charms.”
They retrieved the bags after much more fussing by Draco and equal amounts of giggling from the girls. Soon they were heading for the hidden Floo, located in a forgotten Out-of-Order toilet. Cordelia filled Smith in with the details of the girls’ progress on their instruments, with occasional helpful interjections from the girls about favorite songs and exactly why Beatrice had no interest in playing the trumpetalia (“There are too many places to blow into!”). Soon they were standing in the foyer of Graves Manor and Smith was unable to contain his gasp. This was… beyond anything he had ever seen outside a museum. Opulence didn’t even begin to describe it. He could never imagine living somewhere like this by choice; he would be too afraid to touch anything. He only hoped the carriage house he was to live in was much more subdued.
“You have a beautiful home, Cordelia,” he said to cover his gasp.
She grinned at him. “That’s very kind of you to say. Most of it is Melton’s mother’s decorating. I would never have chosen so many antiques myself.”
“Mummy’s waiting for the old bat to die so she can re-decorate,” Beatrice piped in with a conspiratorial wink. Cordelia looked horrified and Smith had to resist a laugh.
“Beatrice Elaine! Never say such things about your grandmother. Just because you hear Mummy say it, that doesn’t mean you should repeat it, dear.”
“Yes, Mummy.” The six-year-old didn’t look at all admonished. “May we show him the music room now?”
“Later, darling. He’s had a long flight and I imagine he could use a bath and a bit of time to settle in.” She turned to him for approval and he nodded gratefully.
“That would be wonderful, thank you.”
“Right, we’ll show you to the carriage house and leave you to it, then.” After a trek through the house (and more ostentatious decorating) and nearly half a mile of garden, they were in front of a building about the size of a two-story two-door garage, decorated on the outside in a much more understated version of the main house. “Here we are. Your quarters are on the right side. The left is occupied by the girls’ governess, Daria Coletrane. She’s a lovely woman, but mostly keeps to herself when she isn’t working with the girls. She’s away for the week, but she will be back on Sunday morning and you can meet her then. For now, here’s your key. A house elf will come when you’re ready to eat. Come up to the house for lunch tomorrow and we can discuss the girls’ lessons. Melton should be home by then and I know he wants to meet you. Are there any questions?”
“No, no questions. Thank you again for giving me this opportunity. I know you won’t regret it.”
She gave him a warm smile and patted his shoulder. “Of course not, darling. Melton says you’re wonderful and Melton is never wrong. I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow.” She handed Smith the key and waved a friendly goodbye before leaving them alone in front of the house. Smith looked down at the key in his hand, then up at Draco, suddenly nervous. This was it. This was to be his new home for at least a year. Draco gave him an encouraging smile and suddenly he wasn’t so worried anymore. He unlocked the door and went in.
-----
Form: 83352739
Name: Draco Malfoy
Registry Number: 625369
Date: November 12, 2003
Age: 23
Mate: Justin Finch-Fletchly
Current Location: London, England
Number of Sexual Encounter(s): 23
Name(s) of Partner(s): Justin Finch-Fletchly 19(M)
Age(s) of Partner(s): 23
Species of Partner(s): wizard
Description of Sexual Encounter(s): None of your business
Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s)?: Yes
If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects?: The usual.
Did any encounter result in pregnancy?:
Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate?: Yes
If so, how and why?: I tried to influence Harry Potter, but it was not very affective. Damn him.
Comments: Two more weeks and still no new forms. Are you waiting until we have formally mated? If not, you are becoming a nuisance.
>
HUGE thank you to wwmrsweasleydo for helping with the betaing of this chapter! And also to everyone who is so supportive of my writing. Without your wonderful support and encouragement, I don't think this story would ever get finished! Thank you all so much!
Chapter 13
After further discussion with Jordan, as well as Smith’s father, his decision was made. He would go to London and work for a year to see how it went, and if he enjoyed it, then Jordan would find a job and move there with him. Smith had been surprised at Jordan’s acceptance of the decision, but Jordan had only told him to look at the distance as a test on their relationship. If they could survive a year apart, then they were meant to be together, and if they couldn’t, it was better to know before too much was invested in the relationship. Smith was hesitant, having had a picture in his head of Draco naked and prone beneath him, begging for a fuck, but agreed with the assessment anyway. He supposed that Jordan was right; if he was meant to be with Jordan, then whatever temptation Draco might bring could and would be overcome.
Monday morning found him at the main post office off of Jackson Boulevard, waiting in a line four people thick to get a passport application. The room was massive and the click of heels across the tiled floor echoed against the high ceiling. The man at the front of the line was arguing with the teller, something about the fee being ridiculously high. Smith wasn’t really listening; instead, he was going through what he needed to do to get to the UK. After his passport, he would have to apply for a work visa, get the paperwork for his wizarding passport and send in the application Cordelia Graves had sent him. Sometimes he wished he didn’t have to go through two different and entirely unconnected bureaucracies just to get through everyday life. He would have skipped the muggle government, but he didn’t want to get stuck somewhere in muggle London without any proof that he had entered and was working in the country legally.
He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice when the line moved up finally. The argumentative man was standing to the side, tapping his foot. As Smith stepped forward, a woman in the blue uniform of a postal worker came up to him and began speaking calmly. She was obviously a supervisor and her presence seemed to relax his anger, if only a little. Smith absently watched the exchange as he waited for the line to move, which it quickly did, and soon he was out of the massive black cube of a building with a yellow passport application in his hand. He paused at the entrance to the Jackson Blueline, debating whether or not he should go straight home or take the application over to his parents’ place. His mother was always much more patient with filling out forms than he was, but if he went over there he would probably have to abandon Jordan to dinner alone.
After standing in front of the turn-style long enough to annoy half a dozen people, he finally decided that he should go home and made his way down to the platform. It was probably best if he spent as much time as possible with Jordan before he left. Half an hour later, he was through the door and pleasantly surprised to find Jordan already home. “You’re early. Not enough to keep you busy today?” he asked as he walked up and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend.
Jordan gave him a wide smile and kissed his lips. “I got everything done early so I could come home and be with you.”
Smith grinned back and smoothed his hand down Jordan’s khakis to mould them over his ass. “To be with me, hmm? You’re a little over-dressed then, I think.”
Jordan’s response was a kiss and a not-so-subtle attempt at pulling Smith’s long-sleeved t-shirt off. Smith helped him and soon they were travelling towards the bedroom, pulling clothing off as they went. “How was work? Was it a half-day or something?”
“No work. I went to the post office to get my passport application and got the photos taken for it. Cordelia sent the paperwork for the Visas I need, so I thought I should get everything started.” There was a pause in Jordan’s touching, barely noticeable, but Smith could feel his hesitation and knew that his lover had more of a problem with him leaving than he was letting on.
-----
Justin was putting together... something in the living room and Draco was hesitant to ask what exactly the large black box was. He leant against the doorframe, watching as Justin moved around and around the box, twisting and moving bits of it, and occasionally cursing it. Ten minutes into the activity, Draco finally decided to ask what he was doing, despite knowing that it was muggle and he probably wouldn’t like it. “What precisely is that thing you’re fiddling with and why do you keep cursing at it? Is that the only way it will work?”
Justin was so startled from hearing Draco’s voice that he toppled over from his crouch and landed flat on his arse. “Jesus, Draco, you scared me half to death.”
“Well, that’s only because you’re so intent on this... thing. Now are you going to tell me what it is and why it is in my living room or not?” he responded as he went over to give Justin a hand up, not quite being able to resist a grope as he did so.
Justin gave him a rueful grin and smacked his wandering hand away. “It’s a telly, for watching programs and films and football. I’ve told you about them several times, but you never listened. I think you’ll like it once I get it going, though. I’m just having a bit of trouble getting the magic to override the electrical system so that it can take over the power source. Your flat has a larger concentration of magic than mine did.”
“It’s muggle, isn’t it? I thought you said you’d tell me before putting anything muggle in the house after you put in that dreadful shrieking mini-box in the kitchen.”
Justin gave a long-suffering sigh and shook his head. “That’s the telephone, silly. It doesn’t shriek; it rings. And I told you that was for work and so you can call me when I’m at work. It’s quicker than owling and much neater than the floo.”
Draco ignored him and turned his eyes to the box. “It’s a black box. I don’t see the point.”
Justin shook his head and crouched back down to continue fiddling with it. “I told you, I can’t get the magic to work quite right.”
“Maybe that’s the magic telling you it doesn’t want a muggle box thing in the flat.”
“I don’t think so. I just need to mess with it a bit more and it’ll work. I know it will.” Draco declined to comment further and went into the kitchen to make himself some tea.
Three days later, Draco was sitting on the couch, taking advantage of Justin being at work to read one of his mother’s smutty veela romance novels when all of the sudden the big black box came to life and started yelling at him about something called “Tesco”. He squealed (it was a dignified squeal) and scurried behind the couch in fright. The box stopped yelling and was replaced by several voices talking in conversation, with some awful instrumental music playing behind them. Draco cautiously peered over the top of the couch and saw that there were tiny people in the box, all looking very dramatic about something. Perhaps the fact that they were shrunk and stuck in the black, muggle box. Draco would certainly be distraught about something like that.
Not knowing what else to do, he got up and went to the small, white box attached to one of the kitchen cabinets. Justin had left instructions on how to use it to ‘ring him’, whatever that meant. Draco thought of the little people trapped in the box and decided to try it. After three tries, including two that involved foreign voices telling him he had pushed the wrong buttons, he finally heard Justin’s voice.
“You have to come home right away. That box you put in the living room, it’s moving and there are shrunken people inside and you said it was for entertainment, but I don’t think it’s particularly amusing to shrink people and trap them in a confining space. It doesn’t look like they’ll have enough air, and I don’t want them to die because if they die, then the Ministry will blame it on me and I know they’re just looking for a reason to send me to Azkaban even though it would be your fault! I can’t believe you would do this to me! How could muggles think this sort of thing is amusing; it’s terr-“
“Draco? Relax, love, calm down. Who’s going to die?”
“The little people in the box!”
“What little people in what box? I don’t know what you’re talking about, pet. You’ll have to slow down and explain it to me again.”
Draco sighed and darted a glance into the living room to see that the little people had gone and now there was just a little dog. “They shrink dogs, too?! How horrible! Justin, you have to come home. This is cruelty and it isn’t funny!”
“I understand that pet, but you have to tell me what’s wrong. Who are these little people? Where are they?”
“In that big, black box you brought home the other day. I was reading on the couch when all of the sudden it came to life and it was yelling at me, but then it stopped yelling and these little people showed up and they all look very distressed to have been shrunk and trapped in the box. And now there’s a dog that doesn’t appear to realize he’s been shrunken or imprisoned with very little air. You have to come home and fix this. Your magic obviously went wrong.”
There was a pause, long enough for Draco to become rather impatient, and then, “Draco, are you talking about the telly?”
“I... Yes, I think that’s what you called the demon box you brought into my home.” Suddenly, there was a loud sound of laughter, Justin’s laughter, and that only served to make Draco angrier. “This is serious! You’ve shrunk people and imprisoned them in a window box!”
There was more laughter, and then wheezing sounds as though Justin were trying to get back his breath. Finally, “Draco, there’s nothing wrong with the telly. The people in it aren’t really that small; it’s like a two-dimensional pensive memory, remember? Those people were filmed beforehand and they’re all perfectly normal, average-sized people. And none of them are trapped in our telly, I promise.”
“I think you should come home anyway, just in case. What if you’re wrong and you really accidently shrunk them? I don’t want to go to Azkaban.”
A sound of defeat could be heard in the round end with the one hole and then mumbled voices, one of which was Justin telling his co-workers about a ‘minor incident with his muggle-ignorant pureblood boyfriend’ and how he had to floo home to fix it before the boyfriend ‘had a major meltdown’. Draco would have been highly insulted at the implications that he was so emotionally unstable, but at that moment the box began shouting again.
“Hurry!”
“I’ll be there in a minute, love. Just relax, there’s nothing to worry about.” There was a click sound and then a loud buzzing that Draco did not like and so he dropped the feletoner and went to make himself tea, all the while eyeing the shouting box through the doorway to the kitchen. Justin popped in just as the kettle was whistling and went straight to the box and pushed at it once. The shrunken people and the shouting immediately stopped. Draco peeked in curiously, still a bit disconcerted by the whole thing, and was surprised to see that the box was once again completely black. “See, no harm done. There aren’t tiny people in here, love, just moving, talking pictures. Remember the cinema I took you to last month? It’s like that only the picture is smaller. Nothing to worry about. Don’t touch it and it won’t bother you, I promise.” He gave Draco a reassuring smile, but Draco was not reassured and made it known by sidling up to his mate and insinuating himself in his arms.
“Why does it shout? It frightened me nearly to death with its shouting.”
Justin tightened his arms around the blond and pulled him close, enjoying the nuzzling Draco was doing to his neck. “The volume was set a bit too high, that’s all. It normally doesn’t shout, I promise. Maybe tonight after we eat we can sit down and watch some. I’ll introduce you to East Enders; I think you’ll like it.”
“Can we not and have sex instead? I think I’ve had rather enough of that box for one day. I’d much rather introduce myself to your cock.” He gave a little wiggle for emphasis and Justin had to chuckle.
“I think you’ve already become well acquainted with all my anatomy, pet. But there’s nothing to say we can’t have sex while we watch East Enders.”
Draco’s mouth turned up in a wicked grin and he tugged Justin’s face closer. “I think we’ve got a deal,” he growled and took Justin’s mouth to seal it.
-----
Four men were settled at a back table of a small restaurant just off Al-fayasuf, the main Wizarding Street in Cairo, eating koshary out of large steel bowls while exchanging anecdotes about their families. There was a Quidditch match playing on the wireless and their conversation paused every so often to listen when the commentary became particularly heated. They were waiting until the announcement of the final score before beginning their real conversation, the exchange of information. Ron sucked a fried onion off his spoon and tried to pretend he wasn’t listening as Bill told Seth the story of how Ron had become afraid of spiders. He hated that story; it always made him blush, but what could he do? Bill was his brother, his eldest brother, and Seth was laughing heartily at the image of a tiny Ron, just barely out of his toddler years, screaming for Mummy while his beloved teddy bear morphed into a giant spider.
Seth slammed a hand on the table as he laughed, rattling all their bowls and shaking the rickety table a bit, and Ron couldn’t help but smile, too. He liked Seth, he knew already. He reminded Ron of Hagrid in some ways, loud and happy and bigger than life, though thankfully he seemed quite a bit smarter and less-inclined towards dangerous animals. It reminded him of home, made him a little homesick, and he was glad that Harry was staying the week. He was less lonely when Harry came to stay, even if Harry was wallowing in his own heartache at the moment.
"Shall I start?" Seth asked, once the game had finished and they were settled with a fresh round of food and drinks. The other three nodded affirmations and Seth smiled widely. "The first discovery we made was a funeral pot in Akheneton’s tomb. One of our junior archeologists found a sealed pot smeared with a thick blue material that he assumed was paint. It appeared to have been dripped down the side of the pot before it was sealed. Had the material not covered the hieroglyphs depicting the pot’s contents, which were strange to themselves, we would not have looked at it twice. As it was, the visible hieroglyphs indicated that the pot contained a ceremonial knife, a powerful one. We had the paint tested and found that is was not paint, but biological material. More tests showed a form of magical creature blood, but not one that we could identify or had ever seen before. We decided to open the pot, hoping to find more clues as to where the blood came from.
"It took three of our best curse breakers three weeks the break the seal, and what we found was indeed a knife. It contained more magical power than I ever have felt in an object. It... how do you say...? It was like the blood moving in your body. Do you know what I am trying to say?" He looked frustrated for the first time with the language barrier.
"Was it pulsing?" Bill prompted, voice strained in excited tension.
Seth grinned and nodded quickly. "Yes, pulsing is the word, thank you." He took a drink of water and continued. "The handle was made of animal bone, later testing showed a combination of sphynx and falcon. The blade was made of adamantine-coated diamond. It was--is--truly the most remarkable thing of crafting and magical manipulation I have ever seen."
"Where is it? How did you discover what it was used for?" prompted Raleigh. He looked as unable to contain his excitement as Bill did.
"It is currently under security in a vault under the museum. I may have able to get you permission to see it, but not today. Once we found the knife, we examined the burial chamber very thorough, and yet it took us seven weeks to find the message. It was hidden in plain sight, but it only appeared when one of our elves touched it."
Bill and Raleigh shared a look. "A house elf? Why a house elf?"
"I am not for sure, but we think there is a thing in the paint that only responds to those with some sort of magical creature connection, either those with the blood or their mates."
"But..." Bill paused, wide-eyed. "They've never shown up for me, at least not before someone else showed them to me. My wife is part veela and I... I was bitten by an unchanged werewolf. That's where my... scars came from." He indicated the hard, jagged lines that crossed and distorted his features. Ron turned his eyes away, stomach dropping out. Most of the time he forgot about the scars, accepting that they were a part of Bill now, but the thought of that night and of Greyback made him nauseous.
It appeared to have stopped Seth in his tracks as well, because he made several attempts at speech before finally saying, "Perhaps it is the werewolf blocking you out. We have noticed that only light creatures have had the ability to find the hieroglyphs."
Ron furrowed his brows, suddenly remembering something.
"Hang on, I found the sign with Khaemwaset's name on it; I don't have any creature connections. Our family has never had any creature blood and I'm not mated to anyone."
Seth turned to him with a small smile and eyes twinkling the like of Dumbledore.
"You do not know that. Your mate has not found you yet, perhaps. The magic is strong and very old. It can sense more than you know."
Ron didn't say anything. There was nothing he could say. If he was somehow mated to someone, he hadn't met that someone yet, so he wouldn't worry about it. Seth flashed him one more smile before returning to business.
"As I was saying before, it took seven weeks and a house elf, but we found the hieroglyph, the one I have shown Ronald here." He took a galleon-sized file folder out of his breast pocket, enlarged it, and pulled out two glossy photographs. It was familiar, though Ron had not had time to examine it before and find the differences. Now they stood out like flashing lights; all those in line for worship were no longer calmly standing by as their god was murdered. Their faces were all contorted in horror, gifts dropping to the ground, some shattered. Ramses II, Nefertari, and their son stood in front, looking ready to attack.
It was several minutes before anyone spoke. The pictures had been passed from person to person, stared at in astonishment, and then stared at some more. "They..." Bill started, but had to look at them again before he could finish the sentence.
"I've never seen anything like this. Have they ever moved to attack him?"
"Not that we have seen. Do your findings not look like this?"
"No, they don't show any emotion on ours. And the pharoah who owns the tomb is always in front of the line." Bill pulled his own file out and showed Seth their photos Raleigh had taken. Seth examined them slowly, nodding occasionally as though they were confirming something for him
"I am seeing a reason, possibly. Khaemwaset and Nefertari put up the engravings to show us the way."
"The way to what?" Raleigh asked, clearly confused, eyes still focused on the photographs.
"The way to the tomb of Re."
"You think there really was a tomb, then, and a body?" Bill asked, leaning closer over the table in enthusiasm.
"All our research has indicated that Nefertari had an elaborate tomb built as his final resting place. We also believe that the blood we found on the sacrificial knife is that of Re. It would explain why we have not been able to identify the source as of yet."
"But if it's Re's blood, wouldn't it be wizarding?" Ron asked, finally feeling like he was catching up on the conversation.
"That would mean that he was human, and we do not believe that he, or any of the other gods, was."
"What do you think they were, then?"
"Extremely powerful magical creatures."
Another hush fell over the table. They had never thought that the gods could be a separate species. With the assumption that all the pharaohs were lower gods themselves such an important part of Egyptian lore, they had always thought the gods were magically powerful wizards. It made sense, though, that they would be a different species. The pharaohs were probably part-magical creature, like Hagrid or Flitwick. Or Malfoy, if Harry was to be believed. Malfoy. Ron wondered what sort of trouble he was getting into. He knew that Harry was having lunch with the prat the next day. Maybe he would go, just to see what the twat looked like now that he was in full veela mode.
His thoughts meandered down that line of thinking for so long that by the time he was returned to the present, the others were deeply ensconced in a debate about the relative merits of their separate theories. The new thread of the conversation went so far over Ron's head that he could only sit back, drink his tea, and try to understand as much of what they were saying as he could. By the time it began to grow dark, all he knew for sure was that they were looking for the tomb of an unknown new magical species and he had been officially hired as Seth's assistant.
-----
Potter,
I would like to take you to lunch and discuss a matter of grave importance. What is the earliest date you might be able to meet with me?
Draco Malfoy
-----
The note from Draco had surprised Harry, but it didn’t stop him from coming to lunch. He couldn’t fathom what Draco could possibly want to ask him that would be important enough to warrant lunch. Though Harry was beginning to rather like Draco, unannounced snogging assaults aside, he was under the impression that Draco did not feel the same. Still, it was a free lunch and something to take his mind off his misery. He just hoped Draco didn’t bring up Regina.
He entered the small bistro Draco had directed him to, bypassing the host with a nod and walking directly to the blond’s table. His white-blond hair was like a beacon in the dim, darkly furnished restaurant. Draco beamed up at him and Harry was instantly suspicious. “Harry, good to see you. How have you been?”
“I’ve been better, but I’m all right, you? I can see this isn’t just a social visit.”
Draco gave him a coy smile and handed him a menu. “What makes you say that?”
“You’re never this happy to see me. In fact, I’m fairly certain that you barely tolerate my presence most of the time.”
Draco’s face fell, but only a little. “All right, Potter, you’ve caught me. I do indeed have a favor to ask. However, I would prefer to ply you with food before I ask, so why don’t we order?”
Harry acquiesced, going over all the possible requests Draco could make of him, from taking care of an Apparition ticket to assassinating the new Minister. Nothing stood out as a real possibility. They ordered and sat in silence until Harry’s pint came. Draco watched avidly as he took several pulls from it. He apparently had been serious about waiting and it had Harry’s curiosity peeked.
“Before I ask you what I’ve brought you to lunch to ask, you should know that this request comes from my mother. I support her decision and understand why she asks this of you, but I did not put the thought in her head, so please don’t be angry that I’ve asked.”
“What could your mother possibly want that she couldn’t have asked me for herself in an owl?” Harry’s curiosity grew by leaps and bounds.
Draco took a deep breath and an even deeper drink of his wine before speaking. “Mother would like to know if it would be possible, with certain restrictions, for Severus’s sentence to be commuted to house arrest, to be served at Malfoy Manor under our supervision.” Harry opened his mouth to immediately reject the idea, but one look from Draco had his jaw snapping shut again. “Let me finish, please. She understands that this would be quite a concession on the part of the Ministry, to permit a convicted murderer's release to the home of a late Death Eater, but she has conditions that she thinks might persuade you. He would not be allowed access to his wand until after his release. He would be under twenty-four-hour surveillance by either one of us or one of our house elves. And as penance for his crimes, he would be required to brew potions for St. Mungo’s, Hogwarts, and the Ministry. We have the facilities for him to do this and are willing to provide some of the ingredients as a donation.” Harry was unable to respond, struck dumb by the suggestion.
Draco took the opportunity to further highlight the benefits of the idea. “It really makes quite a bit of sense if you think about it. Severus is just wasting away up there with those Dementors. It’s only a matter of time before he goes as mad as all the rest of them and do we really want to throw away such a brilliant mind? We both know that he’s the best Potions Master this side of the Channel. This way, he would be able to help our community and still finish out his sentence.”
“Why would you want to do this?” he asked finally, staring at Draco as though he were an unknown entity. He certainly had not been expecting what had come out of the blond’s mouth.
"He saved my life, both of our lives, on dozens of occasions. We care deeply for him. And..." There he hesitated and Harry was about to object again, sensing that Draco was keeping pertinent information from him, when the waitress arrived with their meals. They spent a quiet few minutes tucking in before either was ready to speak again, and it was Draco who finally continued the conversation, speaking up before Harry could voice his objection. "You have seen the state that my mother is in. She is dwindling away to nothing without her mate. Until now, I have been able to distract her from her despair at the loss of my father, but I have found my own mate now. As much as I would like to spend all my time with her and keep her occupied indefinitely, my life centers around him. I cannot be the center of her world in the way she needs to someone to be. If she were to have a project of her own to watch over, someone she cares deeply for and who depends on her, she might be able to get better. It is proven that widowed veela who are the primary caregiver to children or invalids are able to keep their depressions at bay. I want this for my mother very much."
Harry blanched. He had seen the pallor and gauntness of Narcissa when he accompanied her visit to Snape's cell, but he had not realized that the situation was as dire as Draco was saying that it was. He wanted to help Narcissa. Something inside him seemed to resonate with her, though he couldn't put a finger on exactly what. And he hated the thought of someone wasting away into death when there was something he could do about it. Still, the thought of Snape essentially a free man, when he had killed Dumbledore in cold blood the way he had, made Harry feel sick. "I don't know if I would feel comfortable letting him out of Azkaban. I'm sorry, I really want to help your mother, I do, but I just don't think I would sleep well knowing that he could be incapacitating your mother and going free at any moment."
All the hope and pleasure melted from Draco's expression. There was a split moment where Harry wanted to do anything to take back what he said, just so that it would make Draco smile again, but then he was able to shake off the veelan influence and come back to his senses. "I'm sorry, Draco. I would be more than happy to visit your mother myself, if it would help her. I enjoyed speaking to her when I escorted her to see Snape at the prison."
Draco nodded despondently and took a large swig of his wine. "It might help. I was really hoping to convince you about Severus, though. Are you certain that you could not allow it? We would have house elves on guard twenty-four hours a day and we could erect wards around him so that he could not harm those around him."
"No, I just can't. Again, I'm really sorry. I trust you and your mother to be able to watch him, but I don't trust him. And I... I don't think house arrest would be a punishment for him, especially if it is at your beautiful home. He killed his own mentor in cold blood. He deserves to be exactly where he is."
"He was ordered to kill..."
"I don't want to talk about it." Harry gave him an immovable look. Draco appeared to ignore it, but Harry changed the subject before he could continue his protests. "Who is your mate? You never said."
A glow crept over Draco's expression and he immediately went into a long, colorful explanation of Justin Finch-Fletchly and how they had come together. The subject change had clearly been well-chosen, as Draco spent the rest of the meal talking about Justin. Draco left on relatively amiable terms (or as amiable as was possible for them given their history). Harry took a few more moments to finish his drink and to think once Draco had gone. The discussion had taken more from him than he had expected and he needed a moment to settle his thoughts. It was in that moment that Ron arrived, looking around in search of someone. “Where’s the ferret?” he asked, taking Draco’s seat and downing the last dregs of his wine. Harry stared at him, momentarily confused as to why he was there. “He left already. What are you doing here? Don’t you have work?” “Nah, don’t start until Monday. Thought I’d drop in and see what Malfoy looks like now that he’s all veela-like. He’s left already? Bugger.”
“Why would you care what Draco looks like now? He’s still Draco, veela or not. You weren’t thinking of chatting him up, were you? Because he told me he’s in a relationship with Justin Finch-Fletchly.” Ron wrinkled his nose as if Harry had just offered him vomit-flavored ice cream. “God no, just thought I’d see what he was like now. Never mind, though, if he’s gone. Fancy a drink?” A drink sounded like a brilliant idea, and soon they were downing pints of Butterbeer and the discussion was off on other topics.
-----
Smith was nervous and, oddly, feeling slightly hung-over despite having rejected offers of alcohol during the flight. Granted the turbulence at around hour three had nearly driven him to drink, but he had managed to abstain so as not to look like a drunken fool when first meeting his new employer. Now, walking towards baggage claim to meet Cordelia, he was starting to think a drink or three might not have mattered. He was exhausted, grungy, a little grumpy, and terribly frustrated with the British muggle customs officer who had been rather rude and unfriendly.
All that went away though when he spotted a familiar blond head amongst the crowd. Draco had not told him that he was planning on accompanying the Graveses to pick him up at the airport, and yet there he was, talking to Cordelia, he assumed. The woman had short maroon hair and looked very much the wife of a rock star. The girls were not so recognizable, but they stood out in their own way; they were both stunningly beautiful. Their hair was a matching blue-black that he had never seen before and their eyes were a striking pale blue that they shared with their mother.
Taking a deep breath, he started towards them and was met by a beaming, heart-stopping smile from Draco, as well as three pleasant smiles from the ladies.
“Smith, you have no idea how happy I am to see you! How are you, love? Come, meet Cordelia and her two stunning daughters.” Draco rushed up to meet him in a hug before ushering him over to the Graves women. “Cordelia, ladies, this is my good friend Smith Michael. Smith, meet Cordelia, Beatrice, and Raya Graves.” Smith shook hands, though little Raya was momentarily shy and tried to hide behind her mother.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I’m excited to hear you two play.” He grinned at the two little girls who both blushed.
Draco chuckled at his side. “I forgot to tell you he’s a charmer, Cordelia. Your lovely daughters may end up with inflated egos, not that they won’t be deserved. Shall we go and find your bags? I wanted to bring an elf to assist us, but Justin assured me that that would not be allowed.”
Smith resisted rolling his eyes. “I’m sure we can manage. I only have the two and they came with permanent feather-light charms.”
They retrieved the bags after much more fussing by Draco and equal amounts of giggling from the girls. Soon they were heading for the hidden Floo, located in a forgotten Out-of-Order toilet. Cordelia filled Smith in with the details of the girls’ progress on their instruments, with occasional helpful interjections from the girls about favorite songs and exactly why Beatrice had no interest in playing the trumpetalia (“There are too many places to blow into!”). Soon they were standing in the foyer of Graves Manor and Smith was unable to contain his gasp. This was… beyond anything he had ever seen outside a museum. Opulence didn’t even begin to describe it. He could never imagine living somewhere like this by choice; he would be too afraid to touch anything. He only hoped the carriage house he was to live in was much more subdued.
“You have a beautiful home, Cordelia,” he said to cover his gasp.
She grinned at him. “That’s very kind of you to say. Most of it is Melton’s mother’s decorating. I would never have chosen so many antiques myself.”
“Mummy’s waiting for the old bat to die so she can re-decorate,” Beatrice piped in with a conspiratorial wink. Cordelia looked horrified and Smith had to resist a laugh.
“Beatrice Elaine! Never say such things about your grandmother. Just because you hear Mummy say it, that doesn’t mean you should repeat it, dear.”
“Yes, Mummy.” The six-year-old didn’t look at all admonished. “May we show him the music room now?”
“Later, darling. He’s had a long flight and I imagine he could use a bath and a bit of time to settle in.” She turned to him for approval and he nodded gratefully.
“That would be wonderful, thank you.”
“Right, we’ll show you to the carriage house and leave you to it, then.” After a trek through the house (and more ostentatious decorating) and nearly half a mile of garden, they were in front of a building about the size of a two-story two-door garage, decorated on the outside in a much more understated version of the main house. “Here we are. Your quarters are on the right side. The left is occupied by the girls’ governess, Daria Coletrane. She’s a lovely woman, but mostly keeps to herself when she isn’t working with the girls. She’s away for the week, but she will be back on Sunday morning and you can meet her then. For now, here’s your key. A house elf will come when you’re ready to eat. Come up to the house for lunch tomorrow and we can discuss the girls’ lessons. Melton should be home by then and I know he wants to meet you. Are there any questions?”
“No, no questions. Thank you again for giving me this opportunity. I know you won’t regret it.”
She gave him a warm smile and patted his shoulder. “Of course not, darling. Melton says you’re wonderful and Melton is never wrong. I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow.” She handed Smith the key and waved a friendly goodbye before leaving them alone in front of the house. Smith looked down at the key in his hand, then up at Draco, suddenly nervous. This was it. This was to be his new home for at least a year. Draco gave him an encouraging smile and suddenly he wasn’t so worried anymore. He unlocked the door and went in.
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Form: 83352739
Name: Draco Malfoy
Registry Number: 625369
Date: November 12, 2003
Age: 23
Mate: Justin Finch-Fletchly
Current Location: London, England
Number of Sexual Encounter(s): 23
Name(s) of Partner(s): Justin Finch-Fletchly 19(M)
Age(s) of Partner(s): 23
Species of Partner(s): wizard
Description of Sexual Encounter(s): None of your business
Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s)?: Yes
If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects?: The usual.
Did any encounter result in pregnancy?:
Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate?: Yes
If so, how and why?: I tried to influence Harry Potter, but it was not very affective. Damn him.
Comments: Two more weeks and still no new forms. Are you waiting until we have formally mated? If not, you are becoming a nuisance.
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HUGE thank you to wwmrsweasleydo for helping with the betaing of this chapter! And also to everyone who is so supportive of my writing. Without your wonderful support and encouragement, I don't think this story would ever get finished! Thank you all so much!